cannon with it.'
'How did they know we're here?'
Oliver pulled her to one side as a great beam of heat struck out from one of the sail riders' weapons, shredding the camouflage netting above them. 'Perhaps they followed Lord Starhome's trail of destruction across the county. Maybe they've just reached Halfshire anyway.'
'If they're here, then they must have already fought their way through Middlesteel.'
Purity made to run for the barracks again, but Oliver stopped her and pointed to the forest's edge. 'Yes, and that's why we must head into the wilds. No towns. No roads.'
'I haven't even got a pistol.'
'I've got two,' said Oliver.
With the burning netting falling around the clearing the first slats were starting to swoop down, sail rigs passing through the crackle of rifle fire from the soldiers. Purity watched transfixed as Lord Starhome's long silver length slid down into the breech of the cannon and the firing hatch at the centre of the spiral sealed shut behind the craft.
'Molly,' shouted Purity. 'She's inside the cannon.'
'She has to launch before the slats' flying castle reaches us.'
'I need to get on board,' begged Purity. 'They need me on Kaliban, you have to help me get on board that ship.'
Pushing out of the crimson clouds, the outline of the Army of Shadows' ugly citadel emerged above them. It was riding the leylines on a dozen blasts of energy, scouring the land below, swarms of eyeless soldiers arrowing out on sail-rider rigs from cavernous maws cut into its rock-like sides. The fortress had a terrible organic quality to it, like a wasps' nest carved out of granite and metallic ore. There was no refinement to the Army of Shadows' art. Just raw energy and matter stripped out of the land and turned against any living thing dwelling below. Dozens of leathery black globes hovered around the citadel in the air, held aloft on whining circles of blades that rotated so fast they were a blur to the eye and a buzz upon the ears. Evil red light glowed from hundreds of weapon loops dotting the citadel, while in its shadow, the slopes of Mount Highhorn had turned dark from a plague of Kaliban's advancing legions. The slats made a horrendous cricketing noise as they drew nearer, the chattering sonar throats combined with the clicking of a thousand fangs rubbing together at the thought of fresh flesh to feed on.
From behind the cannon a solitary figure ran into Purity's view, the gun's creator, Timlar Preston, waving his hands wildly to attract the attention of the slats circling above. 'I recognize you. I recognize you as creatures of learning. There must be no more bloodshed between us. There must be peace!'
Peace. What was the fool doing?
'You are a sentient race,' yelled Timlar. 'We can work together, there is no need for this.'
His calls towards the sky finally invoked a response: a bolt of heat enveloped him before dissipating in a blast of steam to reveal a blackened carcass collapsing to the ground. In the end, the Quatershiftian genius had achieved peace only for himself.
Purity tried to pull away from Oliver's grip and make towards the cannon. 'They're getting ready to go, I have to travel to Kaliban.'
'Molly's already inside the gun,' said Oliver. 'It'll be a miracle if she launches before the cannon's destroyed. They don't have time to take on board extra passengers.'
'I can sense the commodore inside the cannon, Coppertracks and Duncan too. They didn't even know Kyorin. He came to me, he rescued me.'
'Maybe he did,' said Oliver. 'But the land came to you too, and she came first. You're part of Jackals and the kingdom is going to need you to resist the invaders.'
'It needs me here to run away again? That's what you want us to do, isn't it.'
‹You can fight,› said the voice inside her head. ‹You will lead and others will follow.›
'I'm just a girl.'
‹So was I, when the invaders came from the sea, but our land is ancient enough to protect both of us.›
Gloom deepened about them in the shadow cast by the crude flying citadel of the invaders. Mount Highhorn was now hidden by billows of crimson clouds boiling out from the ground underneath the unholy war machine. Oliver and Purity began running in earnest now, towards the fringes of the camp where it met a sweep of dense pine. At last it became clear why the sail riders hadn't landed in force on the cannon. With an enormous roar, a pillar of flame left the citadel and ploughed through the forest like an earthquake, drawing down onto the cannon.
Purity stumbled as the blast of heat from the terrible beam hit her. Behind her, fire burst one of the cannon supports and the metal spiral started to collapse to one side as an earsplitting explosion from the ground answered the flying citadel's heat weapon. The first eruption was followed by an incredibly quick sequence of follow-on cracks, and it felt to Purity as if the teeth were shaking in her head as each firing ring added its voice to the immaculately timed crescendo. Then the citadel's heat ray sliced across the huge metal sculpture below igniting the unexpended fuel in the cannon's reservoirs and the entire cannon lifted off the ground. Pieces of the wave-front weapon blew across the clearing, wedges of shrapnel embedding themselves in the tree trunk Purity and Oliver had taken shelter behind. As if enraged by the successful firing of the cannon, the Army of Shadows' flying citadel began to rotate, its killing beam of energy twisting across the rest of the project, the hidden timber buildings that had been their home riding into the air in splinters and a firestorm of burning trees.
Purity couldn't sense the life force of Commodore Black, Molly or the others. Was that because they were dead? Or – she risked a glance from behind the shrapnel-shot tree. There was a thin trail of vapour climbing out from the clearing as if the sky had been scratched up towards the heavens. Had Lord Starhome been intact as he was blown out of the muzzle of the cannon?
'I think they were given the gun before the cannon was hit,' said Oliver. 'But I'm not sure. It was a damn close thing.'
'Molly,' said Purity, tasting the acrid smoke in the air. 'Commodore Black, Coppertracks. Oh, Circle, please let them be alive.'
They had gone, left her behind, just like her mother and brother had slipped away from her to die, leaving her to go on alone.
The storm of beasts circling on their sail-rider chutes was gliding lower, ready to mop up any survivors of their flying citadel's bombardment.
'Let's go.'
'Where?' asked Purity. She followed Oliver deeper into the forest; not running, but fast enough so they might put the camp quickly behind them and keep up a steady pace for hours.
'Right now, anywhere but here.'
‹You know where you must go,› said the voice in Purity's mind, accompanied by images of the trident- carrying queen. ‹The call is strong within you now.›
Oliver nodded. 'Curse your eyes, but I do.'
'You can hear Elizica speaking inside my head?'
'That's funny, I thought she was inside mine,' said Oliver.
The light grew fainter all about them – somewhere above the canopy of pine, the sun was setting unseen. Setting on the destroyed cannon project, setting on the Kingdom of Jackals.
'The slats like to hunt in the dark,' said Purity.
'They may see at night,' said Oliver, drawing his two strange pistols. 'But they've never fought the night.'
Something in his voice struck a chill sliver of fear into Purity's heart. Those two guns of his seemed to glow like death in the gloom, yet this young man who could overhear her madness appeared possessed by one far deeper than her own. He wasn't the master of the brace of evil pistols anymore, they were the masters of him.
'Where does Elizica want you to go?'
'To die,' said Oliver. 'She wants me to go to die.'
